


Vox Populi

by AndyAO3



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Dragon-slaying, Elf-centric, It'll get shippy later, Multi, Slow Burn, Templars and Mages, Thedosian politics, Will add tags as I go, spoilertastic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-01 10:54:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2770394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndyAO3/pseuds/AndyAO3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A small, sickly, angry elf is certainly not what people are expecting to see when they envision the mighty Herald of Andraste. </p><p> </p><p>This is a separate canon from my regular DA canon (different Warden, different Hawke); it came about when I realized that my other Inquisitor makes for boring reading.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Haven't posted in a while, but this has been simmering in my head for some time. Hopefully it doesn't suck too badly.
> 
> I'm so out of practice.
> 
> The Prologue is an alternate version of what happens in one of my other fics, "An Age That Calls Darkness Light". It takes Ted off of the path he took to becoming the Hero of Ferelden, and inadvertently changes a good chunk of Thedas' history in the process.

Two paths for one man. Both lead to heroism, but of a kind scarcely aknowledged. Everyone loves the charismatic, charming, kind hero, but few pay any mind to the one who doesn't care how many toes he steps on on the way towards making sure that children have one less reason to cry at night. The one who does the right thing because it needs to be done, and not because he needed to be told to do it, or because if he doesn't it'll disappoint people, is a rare one indeed.

This is the story of a man whose path deviated from its original course, and how that deviation didn't stop him from becoming the same sort of hero he'd been before.

It only delayed it.

\---

The orphanage Matron found out.

"What did you _do_?" she asked him, her voice raspy and hoarse. It sounded like she had been crying. The thought of the Matron crying because of _him_ was enough to make it hard to come up with a good excuse, but even if he'd been able to, he had a feeling that it wouldn't have kept her from sending him to bed without supper that night, after his wrist had been wrapped up. He didn't see Jehryn again.

For the next few days, he wasn't allowed outside. No one made him do chores, which was nice. But what wasn't so nice was that no one was speaking to him, or telling him what he'd done. The other kids wouldn't even look at him, and whenever the Matron saw him, she'd get really sad and have to look away.

He kept remembering how Darrion had called what he'd done _magic_. Like it was some terrible, scary thing. And, okay, maybe it was. But he was little, he was always sick, and he'd never been very strong. What was he going to do, glare at people until they left him alone? He'd tried that and it hadn't worked so well.

Four days after the fight, he saw his first Templar.

The Matron didn't want to let them in. There were a bunch of them; towering humans in thick plate and robes, equipped with deadly-looking swords and gleaming shields that bore the signature heraldry. He peered at them from the doorway to the kids' rooms, as they loomed over the Matron out in the front hall.

She looked like she might cry again. He might've cried in her place, so he couldn't blame her for that. The Templars were big and scary, and they had weapons and armor. Elves weren't allowed to have those things; it was something Teo had heard the grown-ups talking about that he'd never paid much attention to, but in that moment he was thinking maybe he understood why they'd been so frustrated.

The Matron was little next to the Templars, but she was scary when she was mad. If she had weapons and armor like them, Teo realized, she would've beat them up already. She had only been crying because she wasn't able to do anything, and Teo figured that a thing like that was so sad, even the Hahren would have cried.

Stupid, stupid magic. Stupid dreams. He wished then that he'd never had any of it.

But then, the Matron's expression went from hurt and sad to angry and sad. She stomped her foot - so little next to the Templars, when she had seemed so big before - and put her hands on her hips.

"If you shemlen are quite satisfied," she said, lifting her head, "I would appreciate it if you'd kindly take your things and _leave_. There are no apostates here, and you'll start to scare the children if you stay."

The Templar in front, fully armored but with a lady's voice, cleared her throat. "I trust you know the consequences of what might happen if you're found to be harboring apostates, serah. For the good of the rest of your... _settlement_ here, I must insist that you allow us a search of the premises."

"And I insist that you can take your insistence and shove it up your plated arses," said the Matron. "You treat elves badly enough already, but now you come stomping about in our homes unbidden and call it, what was it. A _service_ to your human Maker? The adults will stand for it, ser Knight, but children will see it and have it shape them, mark my words. D'you want an uprising twenty years down the line just because the babes' first impression of you was that you're child-stealing, remorseless thugs?"

Lady-Templar blinked. Teo would have been willing to bet a whole copper that she was looking confused under the helmet. It didn't last very long, but it was enough to throw her off. Her eyes wandered; they met Teo's through the slit in her visor, as he stared at her from the doorway. When he shied away, he noticed that she flinched.

The Matron gathered herself and straightened, smoothing out the front of her dress with a little nod. "That's what I thought," she said, after the silence had stretched on for a while. "Now go on, the lot of you. It's getting on in the evening and you'll likely want to get rooms at the Pearl while you can, as I wager the Noble's already full up for the night."

When the Templars finally left, the Matron slumped, like she'd been carrying something really heavy on her back and someone had finally let her put it down. Then she came back to the childrens' room where Teo was, found him, picked him up, and hugged him.

He wrapped his little arms around her neck to hug her back, and felt her let out a little sigh into his hair. "The things I do for you children," she mumbled.

Teo didn't understand, but he knew whatever had just happened was important. So he let her have her moment, and didn't say a word.

\---

Days passed with very little change, except now the Matron was keeping him hidden. Telling people that the Templars had taken him when they came to ask. People were happy to hear that, and they called him a lot of nasty things when they spoke to the Matron about him, all while he hid in the smaller spaces in her room where they couldn't see.

She was always nice enough to warn him before people came, which made hiding easier. Under her desk was a good spot. So was behind the wardrobe. In the wardrobe was a bit riskier, because she might open it to get something, but he was little enough to curl up under a shirt and pretend to be a lump of unfolded clothing, so it worked out okay the one time he almost got caught.

Also, he was getting food regularly again. It was like the Matron had decided she wasn't going to punish him. He asked her about it once, and she snorted. "You're already getting enough _punishment_ from all sides to last a lifetime," she had said to him.

He didn't think that was true at all, but he didn't say anything else about it, because he didn't want her to cry again. She had cried enough because of him having magic, and it didn't need to be any worse for her than it was.

Time wore on, and it was getting late in the short Ferelden summer when things finally started changing again.

It began when the Matron got a visit from a weirdly dressed man with scribbles on his face. He looked young in his face and in his eyes, but his long hair had streaks of grey in it. When he smiled, it drew even more lines on his face, and changed the shape that the scribbles took a little.

The Matron bowed her head to the man. She looked nervous, but in an excited way. "Andaran atish'an, Paivel," she said to him. "It's good of you to come this way."

"You would be surprised at how easy it is to get into the shems' cities, da'len," the man replied, and his smile was so _real_ , it wasn't like anything Teo had ever seen before in the alienage. "I wasn't noticed until I came into the poorer districts."

"But it's such a long way from the Brecilian--" she began to say, but the stranger held a hand up and shook his head.

"The timing of your letter was fortuitous. Clan Lavellan recently made it known that they're in need of a First, as their own has just been made Keeper."

"Clan Lavellan? Oh, Maker, but what about the Sabrae clan? I thought Marethari might take him in."

The man's nose crinkled at the mention of the Maker, but he didn't say whatever he was thinking. "Marethari already has a First, and a Second," he told her instead. "Any more than that, and we risk drawing too much attention to ourselves. You know that, da'len."

The Matron gripped the hem of her apron and bit her lip, her eyes darting to Teo's hiding place. Then she sighed and bowed her head, nodding to the man. "If that's the way it has to be."

Relieved, the stranger nodded, offering her a sad smile. "Deshanna is a strong young woman, and she leads her clan well. The lad will be going to a good place."

"I believe you, Paivel." It didn't sound like she did, but Teo had noticed long ago that adults tended to say things they didn't believe but wanted to in hopes that it would make those things more true somehow. She looked over at Teo's hiding place for real, then, and cleared her throat. "You can come out now, love," she said.

Quietly, he came out from under the desk, looking up at this stranger, this Paivel, and not really being sure quite what to make of him. They had been talking about clans, after all. Did that mean this Paivel was Dalish like in the stories? Teo liked the Dalish in the stories. He always had. Those stories had been his favorites, and he'd paid attention to them even when the other kids had gotten bored.

He had to know. "Are you Dalish?" Teo asked.

The man blinked down at him, looking surprised. But he did smile. "Why, yes."

"Do you really cut off human ears and wear them like necklaces?"

Paivel blinked again, then suddenly burst into laughter. And Teo knew then that he was going to like the Dalish.

 


	2. Chapter 1: Grey clouds roll over the hills

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welp.

"How can they have peace talks properly when the leaders of the two factions that are supposed to be doing the talking aren't _here?_ " Zach asked, his exasperation with the shems' bickering neatly mirroring Teo's own. The two of them were at the Conclave - a gathering of mages and Templars that was meant to facilitate peace talks between the two groups - posing as servants so that they might watch over the proceedings mostly unseen. Their vallaslin gave them away to the other elven servants present, but none said anything.

The great thing about hiding out with servants, Teo thought, was that servants rarely gave a shit. Being a snitch wasn't rewarded well enough for them to care that there were two Dalish elves hanging around, particularly when those Dalish elves were usually nicer to them than the people they were serving.

Zach was Teo's best friend - maybe his only friend - as well as the hunter who had been sent to keep Teo safe as the First of the clan. Honestly, Teo was glad for his presence. Zach was the sort to take insults and prejudice in stride, and he didn't get nearly as angry at the humans as Teo did. He would just smile in that infuriatingly understanding way he had, like he didn't blame them a bit for their willful ignorance and blindness, and continue on his way.

Teo was not so understanding, however, so it was also a good thing that Zach was easily two hands taller than him and a good deal stronger, so that the mage's anger could be diffused by being picked up by his collar and dragged away from the offending party. This had happened more than once, and had in fact led to their current situation, as they passed the time in between bouts of spying with a bit of idle banter in an out-of-the-way pantry.

"I mean, how can they think that just sending _representatives_ is gonna cut it? The opposite side isn't about to respect the word of a representative," the hunter continued. "They barely respect the word of their _leaders_."

"Safety," said Teo evenly. "The Divine, the Lord Seeker, _and_ the Grand Enchanter in one place? Easy pickings. They know that. It's risky enough just having the Divine here."

"That's politics, though. It's called a show of good faith. You'd think that the mages and Templars would respect that, considering the Divine was brave enough to leave Val Royeaux for this."

"The Divine was desperate enough, you mean. The Templars don't want to stop the fighting. Not really. They want the mages either dead or caged. And the mages refuse to give in to them."

"--Which they should," Zach added.

Teo nodded. But the Templars would be assholes about it until they were no longer empowered to do so, even if they got their way. Zach preferred to see the best in them and hope that they would change, but Teo knew better than to expect that sort of change to come from out of nowhere.

It was what made Zach an idealist. It was also probably part of the reason why Teo hadn't been allowed to go alone; the Keeper was fully aware of his temper, and likely thought that having Zach along would be enough to keep him out of trouble. So far, it had.

"I find it funny that the mages right now are almost in the same situation as the Dalish," Teo said, rather than giving voice to what he was actually thinking.

Zach laughed, and it was the kind of honest laugh that made him look twenty years younger than he actually was. "Isn't it, though? Wandering aimlessly in hopes of not getting caught, never staying in one place for too long unless it's defensible. They're even seeking shelter with the Wardens. Talk about desperate."

"You'd think that Grand Enchanter Fiona would discourage that. Apparently she used to _be_ a Warden. She'd know how shit that option is."

"Yeah, no. Being a Warden means safety in numbers. Nigh-untouchability. And it's still better than getting cornered and resorting to blood magic."

" 'Nigh-untouchability'? Who the fuck taught you how speech works?"

"Oh, come on. It makes perfect sense."

"It might make sense, but that doesn't make it resemble real words any better."

"Figures you'd get tied up in semantics when it's a serious issue, Teddy."

Teo really disliked that nickname. "If we ever end up getting dragged into the debate, I'd rather that neither of us ended up making the People look like idiots while doing it."

Zach grinned at him, all goofy and crooked. "Good thing we're not about to get dragged into the debate then, huh?"

"In your case?" Teo snorted. "A very good thing."

\---

_Someone, help me--!_

_What's going on here?_

_Run while you can! Warn them--_

_We have an intruder._

_Slay the elf._

\---

Cold. So cold that his face and ears felt numb, and yet his left hand _burned_ and tingled with a not-quite-pain on the edge of his awareness as he regained consciousness.

He was on his knees, sitting on a cold, hard stone floor that he could feel through his thin borrowed trousers. There was a heavy weight around his wrists that was similarly cold, and the clanking when he shifted told him that he was shackled.

Opening his eyes, he noted that the room he was in wasn't very bright. Fitting, if it was a dungeon of some sort. He assumed it was. People got put in shackles when they were thrown in dungeons, mainly. Right?

...Oh, fuck it. He didn't know how shems did that kind of thing. He only knew how the Dalish did it, and usually it involved a lot of snickering from the clan's hunters while the poor bastard they'd taken as a prisoner was dangling from a tree by his feet.

Right at that moment, he wasn't sure which he might've preferred. At least with the Dalish method, his hand probably wouldn't be burning like it was. What had the humans that caught him even _done_ to him? And for that matter, where _was_ he? What was going on? Where was Zach?

He turned his hand over to look at it, flexing his fingers at the tingling sensation that followed. A strange and sickly-green glow was coming from what looked like... like a brand or scar on his palm? That hadn't been there before. Neither had the glow. That was the kind of thing one would sort of, you know, _notice_ having. And there was a certain _power_ to it, like when he gathered his will to cast a spell, except the energy seemed to be merely contained to his hand, rather than humming through his veins like a true spell might.

It was magic, then. But what kind?

A jolt from the... whatever it was, the _mark_ , startled him out of his musings with a gasp, his left hand balling into a fist as the nagging burn from the unfamiliar magic sparked and suddenly made it feel as if he'd stuck his arm directly into a pile of white-hot coals. He grit his teeth until it passed, and let out a hissing breath when the pain subsided, sagging with relief.

Then the door burst open, and two human women stormed in. One looked positively livid; the other regarded him coldly. They'd probably been alerted to his being awake when the magic in his hand had started acting up. By their bearing, they were also definitely the ones responsible for his capture.

_Creators, just what the fuck have I gotten myself into now?_

\---

The dark-haired, brown-eyed woman was Cassandra Pentaghast, of Nevarra. She had started out pissed off at him, but had since mellowed over the course of the past... oh, he figured it to be about an hour or so. And the red-haired woman in the hood was Leliana, who had started off cold and then stayed that way in the time that he'd known her so far. They were the Right and Left Hands of the recently deceased Divine, and at first, they blamed him for everything.

Naturally. A Dalish mage? Yes, clearly an unknown. Ah, shemlen, always quick to pin the blame for their catastrophes on whoever they could categorize as an _other_. As if the Dalish _hadn't_ been completely neutered when it came to their magical capabilities. Sure, they knew some things that the human Circles didn't, but they were barely even a shadow of what they had been in the time of Halamshiral, which itself was barely a shadow of Arlathan's glory. The humans had little to fear from the Dalish, if they'd only stop to think about it for even a moment.

Eventually, both Cassandra and Leliana seemed to realize this - Cassandra a bit later than Leliana - and then he went from being a prisoner to almost being on the level of a guest, if one didn't count the fact that he was still being monitored and guarded like a dangerous criminal. Well. Teo wasn't sure whether he should be honored or _deeply_ concerned. Probably the latter, though, since he was apparently the only one to come out of the Conclave alive and there was a great big fucking hole in the sky. The enormity of that hadn't quite hit him yet, but he figured it probably would once he gave it some time.

Leliana broke away to go do something, and they were joined by another elf - this one without vallaslin - and a dwarf with no beard to speak of. When the elf said his name was Solas, Teo couldn't help but raise a brow at him. Didn't _solas_ mean _pride_? Whoever had chosen that name for him must have been either arrogant or sadistic.

Meanwhile, the dwarf introduced himself as Varric Tethras, and he seemed so chipper in the face of world-ending calamity that he just _had_ to be crazy. Or hiding something. Considering he named his crossbow Bianca, probably the former.

Teo didn't trust any of them, but the only alternative to going along with things was getting handed to the shems' Chantry to be hanged for a crime he didn't commit (as if he even _could_ have blown up the conclave). Considering that would likely lead to the blame for everything being put on the People, he really didn't have much of a choice.

So up the mountain they trudged, through the cold and the wind and the snow. Teo hadn't ever particularly cared for any of these things, but he preferred them to heat, and it was nice to be able to occasionally pick up a handful of snow and use it to smother the lingering burning sensation in his Fade-marked hand.

Oh, right, and it had been found out through sheer serendipity that the mark on his hand could close the rifts in the Veil that had appeared since the explosion that had made that hole in the sky. That was a thing. Thus by extension, everyone believed that he could use the mark to therefore close said _giant fucking sky-hole._

He wondered, as he climbed the mountain with a human, a dwarf, and another elf at his side, just how they'd take it if he told them they were all absolutely batshit insane for thinking that.

 


	3. Chapter 2: That I should rise, and you should not

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Travelling companions are not trees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yoooo sup. A couple of you were wondering about Zach.
> 
> Translations for the elven words used are in the end-notes.

It was several days after the Conclave explosion that reality finally set in for Teo, and the gravity of the situation pulled him back down to earth. By that point, the humans had declared him the Herald of Andraste; it was hardly a title he'd chosen for himself, but he was given a choice about precious little these days.

If he'd had a choice about who'd lived and died at the Conclave, for example, he would have said in a heartbeat that his friend Zach would have been the better candidate for this Herald business. A tall, strong hunter who was all charisma and wit and charm would set a far better example as one of the People than Teo ever could. The Inquisition's ambassador, Josephine, had even spoken to him about rumors regarding wild Dalish elves, and said that the rumors that followed in his _personal_ wake were so bad as to not bear repetition. He was pretty sure that wouldn't have happened with Zach.

He was also pretty sure that Zach would've made a far better world-saving hero, and that he'd be about a million times less likely to keel over and die halfway through of some bullshit health problem.

Heroes in stories usually didn't get badly sunburnt from spending time in the mountains with the sun reflecting off of the snow. Heroes didn't go into sneezing fits at the mildew on the old draperies that were hung throughout the local town's Chantry (and heroes didn't have to then go to the apothecary for something just so that they could stop _fucking sneezing_ because the hills around Haven just _had_ to be full of pine trees). Heroes didn't have to take a second to breathe if they started to panic because a fluttery pulse could lead to having to force one's heart back into an even rhythm with magic.

As if to annoy and perplex him further, now that he was apparently a holy figure, people kept asking him for his opinion. Oh, it wasn't that he lacked for opinions. He had opinions on everything. But suddenly his opinions actually, well, _mattered_ , and people were giving him important decisions to make. The weight of this new responsibility didn't quite bother him - and even if he were bothered, he wasn't about to admit it, even to himself - but it did make him realize that he was being put on a pedestal, and that frankly, pedestals suck to be on.

See, when he'd been among the People, with his clan and everything, he'd thought of himself as a loner. He'd never had much in the way of friends, he'd kept to himself, and the only thing he'd been expected to do when he got older was taking over the clan himself someday. But even then he would've had the help of the elders, whom he'd been on good terms with since he was young, and Zach would've been there to listen to him bitch and moan about every little nagging problem he had, and he would've had his own apprentice to teach. The clan had been his family, whether he'd realized it at the time or not.

This, though? This shemlen village full of people who viewed him as the messenger of their god? This was what being alone really was. He hadn't known how good he'd had it with the clan.

Creators, he could really use someone to talk to and rant at. Except Josie was too sweet, Cullen was too busy, Solas was the worst kind of flat-ear (one who was arrogant about it), Cassandra thought he was a gift sent to the world by her human god, and Leliana was nugfuck insane.

"So," Varric began, after pulling him aside one afternoon and over to a nice little bench by a peaceful campfire that was _just_ far enough from the tavern for the amount of people present to not be overwhelming, "now that Cassandra's out of earshot, how're you holding up?"

Teo sighed, wearily settling down onto the bench and staring into the dancing flames. "It's all bullshit," he eventually said in reply.

Varric got a chuckle out of that. "You may want to consider running at the first opportunity, snuggles. I've written enough tragedies to know where this is going."

Okay, so maybe he had _one_ friend so far. Could do without being called _snuggles_ , though.

\---

The Hinterlands weren't as ass-numbingly frigid as the Frostbacks proper, but they were still colder than the Free Marches ever were. Harrit, who was Haven's resident smith, had one of his tanners fashion Teo a new coat out of druffalo hide to ward off the chill, but it was about two sizes too big and the wind cut straight through the gaps left by how baggy it was on him.

Better than nothing. And, hey, at least the cold meant that there weren't too many flowering plants for him to get all snuffly over. That was something, wasn't it?

Well, no, not really. Because the Hinterlands had even more pines than the Frostbacks had, and worse still, it had a lot of damp, musty caves. That he just _had_ to go crawling around in, because occasionally there was a fucking rift in one, and anywhere there was a rift, usually it meant that the local wildlife would be driven insane by it. Which meant that it needed to be fixed before someone's leg disappeared down a bear's gullet.

Obviously, Sylaise just wanted him to be miserable. So he suffered and snuffled his way through it, occasionally wiping his nose on his sleeve or rubbing at his watering eyes, all while purging the land of demons, rogue templars, and power-mad apostates with copious amounts of fire. Oh, and bandits, because _of course_ there were bandits.

This lovely, fun-filled jaunt with Solas, Varric, and Cassandra in tow came to an abrupt halt when they reached a short, but completely sheer cliff. At the top of this cliff, there was an astrarium.

It took Teo a moment to recognize the thing. He could see it, could hear the magical hum of its inner workings. At a glance, he knew it had to at least be _elven_ , but he didn't know exactly what it was.

"Hey, hahren," he called out, gesturing for his fellow elven mage to come over. Solas' features twisted into a slight sneer at the title.

"Yes, _da'len_?" Solas inquired. He'd schooled his expression into a tight smile.

Teo pointed up at the artifact atop the cliff. "Any idea what that is? You're the expert, apparently."

Solas peered up curiously, squinting slightly at the sun and leaning on his staff. "Oh, I don't know," he said. "I'm certain a Dalish First would know more than I would about such things."

Right. Sarcasm. Teo rolled his eyes. "Don't be a dick, old man."

"As always, you do your ancestors proud by your impeccable wit and sharp tongue, da'len."

A few meters back, Varric sighed and shook his head. "Can't you elves ever play _nice_ for once?"

In this case, no. He was not going to play nice with the old bastard who just had to rub it in every chance he got that he thought the Dalish were inferior.

Solas straightened, eyeing the thing more closely. "From this angle, I can only guess at its purpose. Might there be a way to conceivably get up to the device and have a closer look at it?"

Teo looked at Solas, who raised an eyebrow back, and to Varric, who only shrugged. Then, he looked at Cassandra, and got an idea.

"Hey, Cass."

The Seeker blinked when addressed; she had been standing away from the group a bit, impatiently waiting for them to move on from this diversion. Her brow furrowed. "I do not know what you are planning, but I suggest that whatever it is, you take care of it quickly. We have much to--"

"Yesyesyes. Okay. Much to do, world in peril, got that." Teo cut her off with a sharp gesture of his hand. "Hypothetical question. How much can you handle carrying on your shoulders?"

Being scrawny was good for some things; it made climbing your warrior companions to get over obstacles a _lot_ easier. Cassandra wasn't as tall as Zach, nor did she have his experience with small elf children using her as a pretend climbing-tree, but it still worked out relatively well (any day that Cassandra wasn't threatening to deck him was a day that worked out relatively well, honestly).

When he came back down, and got into an inevitable discussion (read: argument) with Cassandra about Chantry re-interpretations of constellations, he had to admit to himself that the minor debaucle had a certain familiarity to it. However, he was about as likely to admit that _aloud_ as he was to admit that the familiarity had made him miss home, and his friend, just a little more than he had before.

_Falon'din enansal enaste, lethallin,_ he thought, _and may Elgar'nan give me the strength to rain vengeance down on the fuckers that did this._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> QUICK GUIDE TO ELVEN:  
> shemlen: quick children, elven word for humans  
> hahren: old man  
> da'len: young one, little one  
> lethallin: kinsman, clansman  
> enansal enaste: guide and preserve  
> Falon'din: elven god of death, "Friend of the Dead"  
> Elgar'nan: elven god of vengeance, "The All-father"  
> Sylaise: elven goddess of the harvest, "The Hearthkeeper"


	4. Chapter 3: Take my heart, my love and then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mercs and bulls, oh my.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, this one was fun to write. Ehee.

For a flat-ear, Sera was surprisingly fun to talk to. So long as neither of them brought up things that were _too elfy_ , they got along just fine. Unlike some Dalish elves, who had lived their entire lives outside of the shems' class system, Teo understood that being poor sucked no matter who you were, and sometimes people who were at the top would lose sight of that.

An alienage might be an elaborate way of separating elves from humans to keep them from ever understanding or trusting one another, but in form and function it was little different than a human slum otherwise. On that, at least, the two of them could agree. Helping the little guy was rarely a bad thing.

Except Sera would sometimes forget that change has to come from the top to have any lasting effect, but well. She hadn't spent three nights studying human history and politics with Josie, nor would she want to. Studying didn't strike Sera as being an active way of helping people.

It had surprised Josie too, honestly. Making use of his spare time by spending it _learning_ instead of flicking acorns at the quartermaster or climbing trees or whatever the fuck it was wild Dalish elves did? What an unusual way to use the Inquisition's resources. Still, after Val Royeaux, he figured he needed all the information he could get just so that he wasn't going to be going into functions with dignitaries completely fucking _blind_.

Teo decided that, with Sera at least, the best course of action would be to avoid the more iffy subjects, and keep her along as someone who could bring him down to earth and keep him grounded - someone that saw him as a _person_ and not as the Herald - and everything would hopefully work out for the best. Also, not getting an arrow in one's back made for great incentive when it came to being tactful with someone.

Then, there was Vivienne.

Teo had to be perfectly honest with himself; he liked Vivienne. He admired her obvious strength - not only was she a powerful mage, but she was also a formidable woman with a lot of presence - and that she could make everyone around her look like flailing little children. There was never a moment where Vivienne wasn't in control (and he would be the first to admit that it was just a little bit hot) and she carried herself with the utmost poise and grace.

It would just be nice if they didn't disagree so vehemently with one another. Because then that scolding tone got directed at _him_ like he was a naughty, shortsighted child, and he just wanted to _scream_ but he couldnt because he'd seen her freeze a man solid once (at a fucking fancy party, too!) and he didn't look forward to the thought of losing any extremities to such a spell.

Normally he wouldn't be so careful. He'd have shouted in her face that yes, Dalish limited the amount of mages in their clans, but that was because of the shems' mage-hunters, not because they hated their mage children. Plus there had been a spike in the amount of mages born in the past few decades - a theory he'd had which had been confirmed by a book he'd picked up in Josie's study that had apparently been penned back at Kinloch - and some clans were a bit more paranoid about what might happen to their Keepers or Firsts should they not stay within the limit.

He didn't like or agree with what had happened to Minaeve, one of the Inquisition's researchers, but he did understand why her clan had thought they needed to be rid of her. Just in the past two decades alone, there had been at least three clans that didn't come to Arlathvhen, and that was a dangerous trend. As such, the Dalish wanted to invite as little suspicion and scrutiny as possible. No one wanted their clan to be the next one culled.

So between Vivienne, Sera, and the debaucle with the Lord Seeker at Val Royeaux, Teo was in a rather gloomy and foul and pent-up mood when he decided to take a stroll down to the stables to go rant at his recently gifted "bog unicorn", because at least the undead horse wouldn't back-talk him. And he did _not_ appreciate his stroll being interrupted by two Chantry sisters who were in the middle of the path and harassing an exhausted-looking soldier.

"You should accept the gifts given to you, my dear," one of the sisters said in that knowing tone that said she clearly knew what was best for other people. "Embrace them. It is the Maker's will, is it not?"

The soldier coughed politely. "With all due respect, sister, I don't think you know the Maker's will better than anyone else might." The voice was a woman's, being pushed into a lower register, but the body language, armor, and stance were a man's. No, a proper _soldier's_ , because even though the armor wasn't Inquisition standard issue, it was still heavy armor being worn well. A merc, then?

Whoever it was, Teo didn't like the tone that the Chantry sisters were taking. Before the second could speak up, he cleared his throat. "Except for the Herald of Andraste. 'Cause I'm standing right here."

Both Chantry sisters gasped and rushed to get to the usual bowing and scraping, but the soldier turned to him, gave him one good once-over, and promptly stood at attention to give him a salute. "Your Worship."

Teo eyed the two sisters. "Were these two giving you any trouble?"

"Nothing I can't handle, your Worship," the soldier replied with a little bit of a smirk.

"Right." Puffing out his chest, Teo made himself look as tall as he could before he leveled a glare at the two gawking women. "You two, clear out. If you're lucky, I won't tell the Left Hand about how you were harassing someone who's clearly here as an envoy to the Inquisition."

The sisters went deathly pale, and Teo allowed himself a slight grin. "As you wish, my lord Herald," one sputtered; it was all they could do not to trip over themselves as they went.

Ahhh, the perks of having power. Teo shifted his attention back to the soldier, who was obviously trying not to break out into a grin.

" 'Clearly here as an envoy to the Inquisition'?" he - by that point, Teo was fairly sure that was the right mental label - asked. Dark eyes, dark hair, and dark skin. With the accent taken into account, Teo figured that the soldier hailed from somewhere up north where it was warmer and sunnier.

"Well, you've got a Free Marcher symbol on your chestplate, and as far as I know, that'd be one of about a hundred things that makes your armor a breach of Inquisition uniform protocol," Teo said. "Got a name, soldier?"

"Cremisius Aclassi, your Worship," the soldier said, bowing his head. "I'm here on behalf of the Bull's Chargers. My company commander, the Iron Bull, wishes to have a word with you."

"So does half of Thedas. The other half wants me to shut up and die so I'll stop making them question their own ideology with my very existence."

"I don't doubt that," Cremisius said. He was finally unable to keep the grin from his face. "He's up the Storm Coast. Wants to give you a demonstration of what the Chargers can do for the Inquisition."

Teo hoped quietly that this demonstration would be a bit more thought-out than Sera's. "I can go for that. The Storm Coast is kind of miserable as far as places for a demonstration go, though, isn't it?"

"We found a camp of Tevinter smugglers. Thought you might be interested in having a few less of those in the world." Cremisius folded his arms. "Why, afraid of getting a little wet, your Worship?"

"It's not getting wet that bothers me. It's coming back and having to deal with all the damn healers babying me because I caught a sniffle." Teo snuffled a bit at the end of his statement as if to further emphasize his point. It was totally not because his allergies would act up whenever he came back to Haven. Nope.

The mercenary laughed. "Do they tell you afterwards that you should've worn a decent cloak and that it's your own fault your humors are unbalanced?"

"They even try to get me to stay in bed all day while sipping broth from a cup and doing absolutely fuck-all." He decided then that he liked this Cremisius. "You staying in Haven? I can put the fear of the Maker into anyone else who decides to bother you, if I have to."

"Nah, I need to get back on the road, make sure the Chief knows to watch for your forces." Then Cremisius smiled a little more softly, bowing his head again. "But I appreciate the offer all the same, your Worship."

"Seriously. They get on your case again, I can get Cassandra on their asses _real_ quick." He had a hunch why the sisters had been bothering the merc, and that hunch made him feel like setting things on fire.

But the mercenary shook his head, chuckling. "Next time I'm out this way, maybe."

Teo sincerely hoped there would be a next time. If they were anything like this Cremisius guy was, he had a feeling he'd like these Chargers.

\---

Wow. Just, _wow_. Hot damn. The Storm Coast being miserably wet and cold, having to avoid getting spotted by a fucking high dragon, almost being smashed by a giant, Varric griping about the outdoors? All was forgiven. He would _so_ do it again. Because the Iron Bull was a joy to watch in action.

"You didn't tell me he was a _Qunari_ ," Teo hissed at Cremisius as the Bull cleaved a fleeing Tevinter grunt in half.

The merc just snickered at him. "You didn't ask," he replied, before turning and wandering off to inspect some of the casks the smugglers had left behind.

That. Was true. Okay. He _hadn't_ asked. But he really didn't think to, either. He had only seen a handful of Qunari over the course of his entire life, and none of them had actually been _real_ Qunari, who were followers of the Qun and the teachings of Koslun. They had been Tal-Vashoth, deserters. Raiders and outlaws. The dumb muscle in a group of bandits.

The Iron Bull was not dumb muscle. The way he moved was calculated, precise, and completely deadly. Even his revelry seemed a just a touch too cold, his crooked grin - likely crooked because of the same scar that his eyepatch failed to cover in its entirety, and in fact only drew attention to the damn thing - not quite reaching his sharp, intelligent eyes.

It was only when Sera elbowed him, smirking lecherously, that Teo realized he was staring. And damn if there wasn't a lot to stare at. Did this Iron Bull just not believe in shirts?

_Either I have a fever again or I'm blushing,_ Teo thought, growing annoyed with himself. _Creators. It must be obvious. Shit. If Sera tells Varric about this, then I am fucking killing her._

"That was, uh. Impressive?" was what he ended up saying aloud, and from the Iron Bull's smirk he could just _tell_ that the big Qunari could see right through him.

Fuck me sideways.

"I, uh. Anyway." Yeah, that was a real intelligent response.

"You're pretty tough for a little guy," said the Bull. "Quick with those barriers."

That was about the point that Teo's brain shut down, and he was shoved aside with a disgusted noise by Cassandra. He was honestly glad he'd made it that far into the conversation before he lost the ability to put sentences together, because looking like an idiot in front of someone so obviously competent (and muscular, with a deep rumble of a voice) was _not_ how he wanted to spend his afternoon.

Sera giggled for most of the way back to camp, though, and that was definitely a thing he could do without.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Elven glossary:  
> Arlathvhen: meeting of the clans every ten years to trade stories, findings, goods, and clan members.


	5. Chapter 4: We were never welcome here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People keep underestimating Teo. Is it the ears? It's the ears, isn't it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS RAN REALLY LONG AND I APOLOGIZE. I changed some things, but they were all minor. Nothing big.
> 
> At least this chapter has some Dorian in it.

_We are the last Elvhen, never again shall we submit_.

The phrase echoed in Teo's mind, informing every decision he made and every action he took. They were reflected in his manner, in the way he held himself, and in the words he used to convey his ideas to others. The phrase, that mentality, had become a part of him as surely as his magic was. And thus, it had become a part of the way the Inquisition was being run, through the simple act of everyone having put him in charge in all but title.

The Inquisition would not submit to the whims and will of anyone, not so long as he was leading it. It was not Fereldan, it was not Orlesian. It was independent of any nation that might think to control it, and even the Chantry had no power over it.

That was why Teo was not happy when he came to Redcliffe.

It started with the rift outside the gates, directly blocking passage in and out of the village via the King's Road. Redcliffe was a well-fortified town - it had to be, since it was the only way in or out of the nearby castle - and it could hold out on its own for an age even with the road blocked, but something about the placement of that rift seemed deliberate. Most rifts showed up in random, weird places. Sometimes they might block roads, but sometimes they might also be halfway up a tree or in a cave or uprooting the elfroot in some poor slob's herb garden.

A randomly placed rift usually wouldn't block the one road, or more specifically, the one _gate_ in or out of a town.

And it definitely wouldn't twist _time itself_ around it, something which Teo wouldn't have even noticed if he hadn't been knocked out of a fade shift smack in the middle of the fight into a field of... of _something_. He felt the power of it even if he couldn't place its nature, like accidentally stepping onto a binding rune. He only had a split second to consider just what the fuck was going on before he was forcibly yanked out of it by a massive, strong hand on his arm.

" _Boss!_ Snap out of it!" It was Bull. The big warrior had his gore-soaked axe in his other hand, and he was looking at Teo with his brow slightly furrowed. The rift was still open, but only just; the demons from it were dead, and it was ready to be closed.

Sera was backed into a corner, blood splattered over her tunic and a manic grin plastered across her face. Vivienne's fine robe, in contrast, was only slightly rumpled; however, her grip on her staff was tight and her posture was a little too tense. The skirmish was done already; somehow, that blighted magic had taken him out of it.

Shit. That was not normal. Even the damned rifts didn't usually fuck with reality that badly; someone had altered it deliberately. Someone with a fair amount of power.

As he lifted his branded left hand to seal the rift, he found himself wishing - for the first time in his life - that he'd brought a templar or two from the ranks of those that had defected with Cullen. He had a feeling that he might just end up needing an anti-mage.

\---

All of Teo's little band was on edge as they took the winding path up into Redcliffe Village. He was the only one present who had been there to receive Grand Enchanter Fiona's message back in Orlais when she'd told the Inquisition where to meet her and her mages, though, so he dismissed the idea of bringing up the sheer weirdness of it all to his companions.

"Veil's thin here," he said instead. Because, well, it was.

Sera responded with a snort. " 'Course it is, there's a bloody huge gapin' hole in the sky."

"S'not what I meant." He could feel it in the air, how easy it would be to call on his magic, how little of his will it would take to reach for a spell. But he couldn't explain that to Sera; she wouldn't understand it, and the attempt would annoy her.

"There is a rather considerable number of mages here, my dear," said Vivienne, before Sera could speak. The Enchanter nodded towards a little knot of people, gathered together in a tight group near a shop. All of them wore robes of some description, with some looking quite haggard indeed. They spoke in hushed tones, and every so often, one of them would glance towards the heavily armed and decidedly mismatched party nervously before quickly looking away. "I imagine the Veil here has had to endure far more of their frivolous casting in the past few weeks than it has in a long while. There is a reason why the Veil is frequently discovered to be thin in Circles, after all."

"Nah, this is different." Honestly? It reminded him a little of how it felt in some of the hills around Haven. He'd been told some _really_ nasty shit had gone down there during the last Blight; he wouldn't be surprised if something horrible had happened in Redcliffe, too. "Like a... I dunno. A graveyard."

The Iron Bull groaned. "For fuck's sake. Does that mean _more_ demons?"

Teo craned his neck to peer up at the Qunari. "Usually? Not as much. I've seen walking corpses though. Like, the spirits can't come through and manifest fully on their own, so they possess a corpse."

"The simplest solution to such things being _fire_ , which we are more than capable of producing in abundance," Vivienne pointed out.

"Euugh, burnin' body smell. Not fun." Sera shuddered and her expression twisted into one of disgust. "First demons, now zombies. Can't anythin' be normal?"

"There is a giant fuck-off hole in the sky that's shitting out demons. _Normal_ isn't in the job description when it comes to dealing with it." At that point Teo was starting to get a little fed up with people avoiding them, though, so he turned away from the path and marched off to find the nearest clump of mages.

Naturally, they shied away from him and his companions a bit. Teo was fine with that. The Inquisition didn't need to be known for things like tact. He tapped one of the mages on the shoulder – a lanky elf with mousey-brown hair and robes that said he was fresh out of the Circle – maybe a little forcefully, and the mage in question jerked away and squeaked in surprise, whipping around to stare at his fellow elf in shock.

_Mythal'enaste, those fancy mage-prisons have made these poor bastards jumpy._ "Hey. Grand Enchanter Fiona was expecting us?"

The former Circle mage stared blankly at him. "Um?"

"Fiona. We met in Val Royeaux? We're with the Inquisition."

It was around then that the mage seemed to notice Teo's companions, going a bit pale in the process. Bull grinned and waved. It didn't help. "Uh... the, uhm, the what now?"

"The _Inquisition_ , darling," Vivienne said. "Surely you've heard of it."

"N-not really?" The young mage took in Vivienne's appearance and gasped. "First Enchanter! W-what are you doing here?" Other mages that had been part of his group had started turning to look at the little band of Inquisition members, staring openly. Particularly at Vivienne, Teo noticed; perhaps it _had_ been a good idea to bring her.

"We're here to meet Fiona, darling, just as the Herald told you." Vivienne gave her fellow Circle mage a pleasant smile, and he withered under her gaze. "Be a dear and inform her of the Inquisition's arrival, would you?"

"I don't think..." The young mage trailed off when Vivienne's smile turned far, _far_ too sweet for comfort. "A-at once, First Enchanter." After that, he couldn't seem to get out of there fast enough.

Vivienne watched the lad go, chuckling in a way that Teo would describe as almost being cold.

"How easily they fall back into the comforting notion of having a command structure," she mused. Teo knew it was said aloud for his own benefit, and rolled his eyes at the thought. Of course the mages were fumbling with the idea of freedom. None of them knew what freedom really was, and few of them had enough exposure to it to internalize it as something worth having. When she took a detour of her own to chat with the mages, though, he didn't stop her; she'd be far better at learning what was going on than he would.

Better that someone the mages knew speak to them than someone they didn't. The evidence pointing to the mages having not expected them, after all, had not escaped Teo's notice. Something was very wrong here.

\---

"A fucking _magister!_ " Teo raged, not two steps away from the tavern door. "They've _enslaved_ themselves to a fucking _Tevinter_ magister!"

"Didn't see _that_ coming," Bull muttered. Teo rounded on him with a snarl.

"And I'm sure you just _love_ this, don't you? Justification for your Qun's treatment of mages, I bet. If they're not magisters and therefore too powerful to be trusted, then they're weak-willed and too _soft_ to be trusted!"

The Bull frowned deeply. "Hey, settle down, boss. I didn't say shit."

"I will _not_ settle down, not when these _asstards_ are making mages _everywhere_ look incompetent!"

"Yeah, but you're not helping by making Dalish mages look like kegs full of _gaatlok_ , either," the Bull said. "Calm down."

"Fuck you," Teo muttered. But he had to concede that the Bull had a point. Whatever. He'd needed to vent. "I didn't try to melt that Alexius bastard's face off. That's about as calm as I get in these circumstances."

"So you practiced a little self-restraint. You want a cookie?" Bull snorted. "I didn't cleave his head in half either. Doesn't mean I expect a pat on the back."

Being the mature, sensible person that he was, Teo responded with a rude gesture. Then he pulled out the note that the magister's son had passed to him to give it another look.

The handwriting was very neat and precise, so it probably wasn't Felix's; he'd seen the young man's hands shaking, noted his deathly pallor, and known fairly early in the exchange that the magister's son was in worse shape than he let on. Feigning sickness only worked if one was sickly to begin with. However, Alexius had seemed genuinely distressed by his son's seeming weakness, and Fiona had been just as surprised as the rest of them, so the note wasn't from either of them.

If it was a trap, it was either something that everyone was in on, or no one was. Judging by Alexius's honeyed words and general attitude, the magister would feel no remorse should the Herald of Andraste be killed, so there would be no reason to hide such a trap from him. Which meant it wasn't a trap. Or if it was, it was one that the writer of the note thought he could handle.

Teo folded the note and tucked it into a pocket on the inside of his jacket, then set off toward Redcliffe's Chantry.

\---

"Ah, you're here! Help me close this, would you?"

_What_. Teo blinked and stared at the weirdly dressed man before him, even as the Bull, Vivienne, and Sera were all closing in to confront the demons that the rift - a rift forming in an enclosed _building_ , now that was new - had spat out into the little Chantry. The pews had been knocked aside, and the demons' black blood stained the various traditional fancy tapestries and soft rugs.

He stifled a sneeze at the dust and mold that had been kicked up by the commotion, rubbed at his nose, and followed his companions into the fray.

Whatever. Just another rift. A rift with weird time bullshit going on, like the last one, but another rift all the same. This time he knew what the time bullshit fields looked like, and he could avoid them. Killing demons had become enough of a routine that he could do it almost mindlessly, unthinkingly. It gave him the opportunity to occasionally glance over at the newcomer that they were "helping", and try to read him.

Tall, dark skin, dark hair, stupid moustache, accent. A northerner. Expensive, tailored clothes carried a serpent motif in places; between that and current circumstances, Teo would place him as Tevinter.

A helpful Tevinter? Creators, the world really _had_ gone batshit insane.

However, Teo noticed through the fight that as he was observing, he, too, was being observed in turn. And when the demons were finally dead and it came time to close the rift, the man's eyes had lit up as he turned to watch the proceedings, as if he were entranced by the brand on Teo's palm. "Fascinating! How does it work, exactly?"

The man reached for that marked hand with a gleam in his eye that Teo didn't trust in the slightest; Teo jerked his hand away and leveled a glare at him.

"Hah. You don't know, do you? You just wiggle your fingers and _poof_ , rift closed."

"Do I _know_ you?" Teo asked.

"Ah, I never introduced myself, did I? How terribly rude of me." The man grinned, and it was the kind of grin that made Teo want to break his jaw. "Dorian of house Pavus, formerly of Minrathous."

"Watch this one, boss," the Bull growled behind him. "The pretty ones are always the worst."

The man who called himself Dorian laughed nervously. "Suspicious friends you have here."

"Teodorus of the Lavellan clan, from the Free Marches," Teo answered, ignoring the Bull. "You're at the ass-end of nowhere coming from Minrathous."

"You're telling _me_. I don't know how you southerners can stand this cold." Dorian shivered, pulling a face.

Teo gave him a bland look. "This is practically summer-weather. Downright mild."

Dorian pouted at him. "For a Herald of Andraste, you're not a very gentle or personable sort."

"I'm not a herald of _anything_ , let alone some shemlen prophet whose elven companion has been conveniently stricken from records." Teo smiled sweetly; he couldn't pull off Vivienne's chill-inducing politeness, but he figured that the expression was foreign enough on his own face that it would put people off.

From Dorian's slight frown, it seemed he was correct. "Right. Well, I assume then that you received my note."

"Oh, that was from you? Here I thought I was being summoned by someone competent." At the man's somewhat hurt look, Teo rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know, I'm mean. Get used to it. You had a message for me?"

"I, yes. I do." Dorian straightened himself out, cleared his throat, and gestured towards where the rift hadn been. "You saw how this rift behaved, yes? Twisting time itself around it?"

"Yeah. The one outside the gates did the same thing. I was caught in a field of slowed time for a second." Teo paused. "Or. Maybe it was a pocket of time moving _normally_ while the rift speeded up everything else going on around it? It'd have the same effect either way."

Dorian blinked at him. "You're. Actually a bit cleverer than I initially thought."

"Time can't be manipulated through magic," Vivienne scoffed. "If it could be, then someone would have already made an attempt, surely. Proof of the concept would exist in written record somewhere."

"Viv, that's not what we're talking about. This isn't travelling one way or another to a specific date in the past or future, it's speeding up the _passage_ of time. Bending it." Teo glanced back at Dorian. "Am I right?"

The Tevinter mage was gawking at him. "How in Andraste's name did you manage to figure all of that out?"

"Well, we can bend _space_ pretty easily, over short distances. A fade step is just that. And with force magic we can make things lighter than they are. So bending _time_ so that it goes a little quicker for us while it's normal for everybody else, that's plausible, right?" At Dorian's boggled look, and everyone else's raised eyebrows, he quickly added, "-not that I would know _how_."

"You..." Staring openly at him for a minute longer, Dorian eventually shook his head and continued. "I don't know how you managed to work all of that out, but you're not far off. Alexius used that sort of magic to arrive in Redcliffe ahead of you, in fact."

"Ahead of _me_? Not the Inquisition?"

"Strange, isn't it? Likely it has something to do with that mark on your hand. You, specifically, are a liability." Dorian paused, frowned, and stroked thoughtfully at his moustache. "Although a liability to _what_ exactly, I cannot say for certain."

"He's probably connected somehow to whatever made the rifts, if he's able to manipulate them to make this hastening magic of his work." Teo peered curiously at the other mage. "You know him?"

"Ah. Yes. He was my mentor, once." The man smiled, looking a little guilty. "We worked on this sort of thing together. All of it was simple theory then, of course. I never would have dreamed of it having any sort of practical application. Except now it's tearing apart the world."

"Uh-huh." The way Dorian spoke, it told Teo that he would rather not think of the magister as being in any way sick or twisted. That he was avoiding the thought of Alexius being connected with the hole in the sky, because that didn't quite fit with how he pictured the magister in his mind - as a _mentor_. Thus, Teo figured that Dorian, for all his good intentions, probably would be less than useful in dealing with Alexius and those he was connected to.

The mages wouldn't be of any help until Alexius was out of the picture. To get rid of Alexius, Teo needed Templars.

He took a deep breath to steady himself when that thought occurred to him; the very idea of Templars, even supposedly good ones, put a tight knot of fear in his chest. The Dread Wolf was what the Dalish had taught him to fear, but Fen'harel was little more than a vague concept, while he had known from an even earlier age that Templars were a real, tangible threat. The thought of being dragged away by men clad in Chantry colors had haunted his nightmares more than any monster in any story his Keeper had told.

But the mages had made their choice - in their fear, they had given up their hard-won freedom and _submitted_ to the will of another - and Teo was nothing if not respectful of the choices of others, along with the consequences those choices landed them with.

"At any rate, I should be going," Dorian said, his voice breaking the awkward silence that had ensued, "as I'd rather Alexius not know that I'm here just yet. Do let me know when you go to confront him. Oh, also? Try not to get yourself killed."

As Teo watched Dorian leave, he doubted he'd be seeing the man again. Which was a shame, because for the first time in a long while, he'd been able to hold a conversation without holding anything back. If circumstances were different, they might've been friends.

He kind of missed having a friend.

 


	6. Chapter 5: Like thoughts inside a dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uuuuuuughhh demons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey this one's up fairly quick. It was both fun and morbid to write.

The smell of charred flesh, flickering embers caught in the air, breath coming in so thick that he felt as if he was about to choke on it, and tasting so distinctly of death that he thought he might gag. Around him, bodies trapped in sickeningly twisted poses carbonized agony, charred beyond any hope of recognition. There was a lingering heat from the blast that made the air shimmer, and had his hair and tunic sticking uncomfortably to his skin from sweat.

 _The Temple of Sacred Ashes_ , Teo thought. _I was here. With Cassandra, and Varric. Solas, too. I know this. Thinking about looking for Zach. A fight with a pride demon. Trying to close the Breach._

This isn't real.

"Nice try," he said aloud, his voice echoing in a peculiar way, "but I've seen better attempts to fuck with me from desire demons. And at least they actually offer some. Y'know. Literal fucking."

The illusion blurred at the edges, and a form stepped out of the shadows. An amorphous, indistinguishable shape made of black smoke, vaguely reminiscent of a woman but hard to make out, otherwise.

"I _will_ know you, Teodorus," the thing said. Its appearance seemed to shimmer, growing hard to focus on, before shifting to resemble Leliana.

"Will you?" Teo raised a brow.

He couldn't cast. Couldn't risk it. If he were in the Fade, or anywhere other than the real world, he'd have way more power and way less control. He'd be just as likely to hurt himself as the demon, and dying outside of yourself meant being Tranquil or a vegetable according to everything he'd read.

Frankly, it wasn't a theory he wanted to test.

The figure chuckled, coming forward and trailing an intangible finger over Teo's cheek. He exhaled steadily through his nose, and closed his eyes. _Just another demon. I can do this. I've been doing it since I was a kid. No problem._

When he opened his eyes again, the scene had changed; it was the Denerim alienage. The air had a musty smell to it, like slightly old and rotted wood, and the wet Fereldan chill made his skin feel clammy. The overcast sky made all his surroundings seem as if they'd been sapped of color.

_Shit. It's reading me._

The thing laughed again. Its voice, too, had changed, and he jerked his head aside so that he wouldn't have to look at it. He knew what form it had taken without having to look, and he did not want to see the effect his old lingering childhood fears would have on that particular bugbear's appearance.

"Will this shape let me know you?" it asked of him in the voice of a Templar Knight-Captain he had long since tried to forget. Its tone was almost cooing. "Being you will be _so_ much more interesting than being the Lord Seeker. When I kill you, the Elder One will help me ascend. And then, I will _be_ you."

 _She can't hurt me,_ he told himself. _I'm stronger than that now. No Templar will take me._

He steeled himself, and looked the apparition in the eyes coldly through the opening in its helmet. Then he broke into a mirthless grin. "Nice plan. Thanks for giving me the heads-up."

The thing snarled and took his chin in its hand, forcing his gaze upward. Once again its form shimmered, before it took the shape of a tall, lanky elf with a mop of brown hair, piercingly bright eyes, and deep blue, wild-looking vallaslin that marked him as being a follower of Sylaise.

"I am not your _toy!_ I am Envy, and I _will_ know you!" Its grip on his jaw was painfully strong, and his head was being tilted at an angle awkward enough to make him cringe; after all, the shape it had taken was a good two hands taller than he was. "Tell me what you think, tell me what you _feel_ , tell me what you _see!_ "

"Never seen Zach glare like that at anyone," Teo remarked with a smirk, though it was also a bit of a grimace.

The thing howled in rage and flung him aside before disappearing in a rush of magic and black smoke; he hit the ground (if it _was_ ground) with a gasp and only narrowly avoided smacking his head. Wincing, he pushed himself up and rubbed at his slightly aching jaw.

_Okay then. At least now I can get my fucking bearings._

It didn't feel like the Fade. The Fade had a certain... _off_ -ness to it. Everything was vague and not-quite-right there, like an amateur's portrait of the thing that was being represented. Often, certain details would be crisp and clear, sometimes even clearer and somehow more real than they'd been in life, while others would be muddy and indistinct. Since things in the Fade were created from spirits' impressions of a person's memories, that was two levels of not-quite-right that those things passed through before they were perceived and processed by a dreamer.

Teo had been doing what was commonly known as lucid dreaming - one of the hallmarks of being a mage - for as long as he could remember. Never had a dream been this _clear_ for him unless he'd had a hand in shaping it, himself.

 _Not the Fade, but not reality either._ He scuffed his boot along the ground, glancing down to examine the mud beneath his feet. Dull greyish-tan dirt worn down by years of being trodden on, mixed with the usual Fereldan slush that couldn't decide whether it should be a puddle or a dangerous patch of black ice that was just perfect for slipping on and landing on one's ass. Just as he remembered. _There is some weird shit going on here._

The only way to go was forward. So, forward was the way he went.

\---

As he progressed, it occurred to Teo that his health wasn't bothering him nearly as much as it probably should be.

Sure, he would feel vaguely ill at a particular smell, and things that spooked him still had him pressing a hand to his chest out of reflex, but he wasn't coughing or sneezing at all, and his chest wasn't doing that fluttery thing it did when it was about to seize up. He didn't feel lightheaded, no matter how far he went, nor did his lungs ache with the strain of his exertion. Even the bruises he thought he'd sustained were just that: thoughts. He _thought_ he should be hurt, so he had been.

He had passed through a door, into a forest in the Free Marches. He'd been greeted by the crunch of leaves and the screams of his clansmen; nothing he hadn't been shown before. A little farther and he'd found himself getting drenched on the Storm Coast, watching the Bull's Chargers grimly cut their way through a score of men, even though Teo distinctly remembered sparing those same men after their leader had been killed and they had surrendered to the Inquisition.

"You're getting creative, I'll give you that," he shouted against the din of the driving rain, pressing onward to where he knew there was a cavern up the coast. He heard the demon's laugh echoing as if inside his mind, just as he reached the cave's entrance. Shaking his head, he ducked inside.

The cave was not a cave at all, but Haven's small Chantry. Wind whistled around the outer walls, but couldn't cut through the thick stone, and the heavy doors had slammed shut behind him. It didn't stop the cold from seeping in anyway, but some shelter was better than none at all, and the numerous braziers and candles provided enough warmth and light to make up some of the difference.

Except the warmth was diminished somewhat by the argument he could just barely hear going on in the makeshift war room, something he just _knew_ the demon wanted him to listen in on.

It _was_ getting better at reading him. It had figured out that he couldn't stand not knowing things. _Shit_.

"You're hurting, helpless, hopeless," came a voice, faint and unfamiliar. "Wandering and wondering as you're lead along and lied to, 'how much does it see through my eyes'...?"

He stopped in his tracks, blinked, and frowned. Up until then he'd recognized every scene he'd been dragged through. He'd known every voice. This one was new.

The demon growled, then, and Teo knew that whoever this voice belonged to, he had an ally. "What? What are you? _Get out!_ This is _my_ place!" it bellowed, the distorted sound reverberating in his mind.

Confirmation enough that it wasn't, in fact, the demon's place. If it was a pocket of the Fade, it was one that had been conjured using Teo's own memories and will, and this Envy thing was just manipulating them. _Good enough for me_.

Teo took one last look at the door that Envy had set up for him to take, and bolted for the one that, instead, would lead down to the weird basement-turned-dungeon that Haven's chantry had going on. When there was no sudden change of scenery, he knew he had made the right call. The demon hadn't planned around Teo being a stubborn shit. Satisfied, he started down the hall; hopefully this'd buy him some time to think of a plan.

"Wait," said the voice again. It stopped him in his tracks, and he whipped around to try and find the source. "Wait," it repeated.

"Who are you?" Teo asked. He might've been just a bit snippy about it. " _What_ are you? Where am I?"

He caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and jerked around to follow it to his source. What he found was... a kid on the _ceiling?_ "I was. Watching." The boy's - man's? Teo couldn't tell his age - speech was halting and odd, like something he'd picked up from observation without actually bothering to practice. His clothes were pretty much rags, and he had a ridiculous hat on, with most of his expression hidden behind the brim of it. "I'm Cole. We're inside you, or. I am. You're. Always inside you."

Teo frowned. "You're not human."

"No." The poor bastard seemed almost sad about that. "It's... easy to hear, harder to be a part of what you're hearing. But I'm here, hearing, helping, I... hope."

"So you're a spirit," Teo said.

"I'm... Cole." Cole frowned back at him. It was sort of cute, in a pathetic way. Like a sad puppy. Cassandra would kill him if he took a spirit home, though. "Envy wants to break you, so it can see you. It wants you cracked open, like. A rock, with gems inside. So it can find your face, in the facets."

"Like a geode." It made sense, but there was still a lot that _didn't_ make sense. "Soooo. Why are _you_ here, then? In my head, I mean."

"Envy hurt you, _is_ hurting you. I tried to help! But then I was here, in the hearing." Cole tilted his head down - up? - and his expression was hidden by his hat. "It's, it's n-not usually like this."

Ah, shit. Had he upset it? Spirits were flighty at the best of times, and snagging the attention of one that was actually kind of helpful wasn't something he was too eager to fuck up.

"Hey, no, it's okay. Enemy of my enemy, Cole, you're fine," he reassured, cringing as soon as the words left his mouth. _Mythal'enaste, do I ever suck at comforting people._

But it seemed to do... something. Cole perked up a little, peeking over the edge of his huge hat again. "...I was watching. I _watch_. Every Templar knew when you arrived. They were impressed! But, not like the Lord Seeker."

Teo remembered. Therinfal Redoubt. Arrogant shemlen nobles that he hadn't been sorry to see get shot. Sick, twisted Templars. Red lyrium. Sera's disgust and horror. Vivienne sounding far less composed than normal. Bull being even more deadly and composed than normal. _Don't touch the crystals_.

The Lord Seeker had grabbed him by the collar, and-- _ah_. "The Lord Seeker's the demon."

Cole nodded grimly. "Yes. It... twisted the commanders, forced their fury, their fight. They're _red_ inside."

"Elgar'nan. Templars are bad enough as they are." Again, he regretted speaking; Cole ducked his head, and all Teo could see was the edges of a tiny frown. "Shit, uh... Cole?"

"You strain and struggle to be kind. When, normally, you wouldn't worry." Cole looked up again - or down, since he was still on the ceiling - and stared at him with big, pale eyes that were bloodshot and sunken. Creepy, but kind of sad.

And in a way, a little bit like looking in a mirror; Teo was all too aware of how much he resembled a fresh corpse on his bad days.

"Anyway," Cole said suddenly, breaking the silence so unexpectedly that it was almost startling. "You're frozen. Envy is trying to take your face. I heard it, and reached out. ...And then, in. And, then I was... here."

Then there was another roar of anger of rage, echoing all around and ringing in his ears. The demon had gotten tired of waiting, and it was getting pissed at him for not continuing to play its game. It was also very likely that it was getting just as pissed at Cole for being an intruder in a space it thought of as rightfully its own.

Teo turned once more to Cole, doing a double-take as he realized that the spirit had moved from sitting on the ceiling to standing before him with feet planted firmly on the floor. "Great. So. How do I get out of, uh... the inside of my own head, I guess?"

Cole smiled a tiny little smile. "You have to do it. But I can help."

\---

It must have been quite a sight for Bull, Sera, and Viv, as well as the Templars that they'd picked that had joined them as they fought their way through Therinfal, when Teo came out of the demon's trap. From their perspective, it had all happened in the blink of an eye; one moment, Teo had been storming up to the Lord Seeker, reaching out to grab him by the shoulder. Then in the next, he'd been snatched up by the neck and held in the air before he could say a single word.

Maybe to them it seemed like, for a split second, he was in a trance. He couldn't say. What he _did_ know was that he came back to himself in the same place and the same moment where he'd left off, with Bull shifting his stance like he was about to charge, Sera reaching for an arrow, and both Vivienne and that Ser Barris guy (he'd joined them somewhere along the way, around the time that it became clear the Templars were going a bit loopy even by Templar standards) looking shocked and slightly confused.

There was a half second's worth of hesitation as Teo re-oriented himself to the real world, choking as his vision swam from lack of air. The demon no longer resembled the Lord Seeker; it had gone back to being a black mass in the general shape of a person. However, being sure of where he was gave him one other thing he was sure of: his casting was both under his control, and not about to lead to him hurting himself inadvertently.

The demon shrieked when his force blast hit it, the strength of the spell blowing Teo back through the barred Chantry doors. He landed painfully hard in a mess of broken boards and splinters on the stone floor; the thing that had been the Lord Seeker de-materialized and fled off down the hall.

Okay. Maybe not so much with the _not hurting himself_ thing. Hopefully he hadn't broken anything.

"Boss!" It was the Bull that was first to his side, putting aside his weapon and bending down to offer Teo a hand up as he hacked and coughed and rubbed at his throat. Teo shook his head and waved the big Qunari aside, heaving himself up with a wince.

 _Oh, good. Surrounded by Templars. This day just gets better and better._ A sharp pain stabbed through the right side of his chest when he shifted, and he bit the inside of his cheek to keep from making a sound. _Yep. Cracked a rib._

"Maker's breath," Ser Barris said, staring slack-jawed. "What _was_ that thing?"

"Envy demon," Teo wheezed. Annnnd his voice was shot. Wonderful. "Definitely not the Lord Seeker." He saw Sera facepalm and groan out of the corner of his eye.

Ser Barris balked. "Sweet blessed Andraste... For how long has this been going on?"

Teo snorted. Then he staggered to his feet only to have a half-dozen Templar swords pointed at him, and sighed with exasperation.

"By the Dread Wolf, can we please _not_ do the whole fucking blame-the-apostate thing? For _once_?"

He really fucking hated Templars.


End file.
